


nosce te ipsum

by daretogobeyondtheunknown



Category: Power Rangers (2017)
Genre: F/F, short one shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-08-25 22:19:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16669396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daretogobeyondtheunknown/pseuds/daretogobeyondtheunknown
Summary: know thyself;a place of written sketches





	1. charmolypi [Kimberly/Trini]

**Author's Note:**

> edit: I apologize for not clarifying earlier but this is a space for short thoughts written based off a single word; authors who wish to flesh out any of the ideas further, please feel free
> 
>  
> 
> _charmolypi (n.) “joy-making sorrow”; a mixed feeling of happiness while being sad_

“Hey, watch where you’re going!”

Wide eyed, Trini gaped, “You can see me.” The words fell from her lips less like the question she knew it to be and more like the awe-struck nature of a child upon meeting Saint Nicholas for the first time.

“What? Are you high – of course I see you, you ran right into me!”

“Well-” Trini trailed off, her gaze shifting from the pinched features of the young woman to her own open palm. It looked innocuous – _normal even_ – and yet as she warily outstretched her arm, fingers wiggling ever so, Trini knew the deception that flowed beneath, “I-”

“What the hell are you doing?”

The corners of her lips curled upward ever so as Trini felt the warmth of the woman’s hand as it connected with her outstretched hand. So this was what it felt like, Trini thought, noting the fluttering sensation in the depths of her abdomen and the tingling sensation blossoming at the site of contact.

“Jeez, weirdo much.”

And then it was gone, the woman disappearing into the sea of bodies and the cacophony of rush hour traffic.

“No wait, come back,” Trini whirled around, frantically searching the sea of bodies for short cropped hair and fervid sureness, “You _saw_ me.”


	2. paraprosexia [Alex/Sam]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _paraprosexia (n.) constant distraction_

“No.”

“No?” Sam iterated, peering over the pages of the book she had selected for her light morning reading, “I didn’t say anything.”

Jolting from her seat as if it were suddenly perilous, Alex took to pacing the length of the study, “You- you don’t have to- you-”

With an arched brow, Sam waited patiently. It wasn’t unusual for Alex to burst out some ardent statement amidst their quiet moments spent together. At first, Sam agonised that it might be triggered by something deeply nefarious; sinister even. But after a reassuring conversation with Kara and a less than affirming talk with Lena, Sam discerned it was nothing to worry over.

And so, Sam learned to merely delight in the way Alex would methodically card her fingers through her hair, often capturing the edge of her lower lip between her upper and lower canine while muttering indiscernible quips. It was never anything grave – nothing like the way Sam’s blackouts gave way to Reign’s grasp, unleashing a darkness upon National City that Sam never knew – and Alex would always stammer apologetically when her awareness grew on her unconscious habit.

“You’re like – I just-” Alex blew out a huff of frustration, hands crossed about her puffed out chest in a manner reminiscent of Ruby during her more “ _rebellious”_ moments, “You’re this constant distraction! It’s like, I just want to finish this stupid report, and all I can think about is you and that stupid… thing! I mean how is it even possible for someone to look so damn sexy in the most unappealing clothes-”

Sam glanced down to the aforementioned “unappealing clothes” in bewilderment. It was nothing more than an old sweatshirt Lena had gifted her. Sure, it had struck Sam as odd, neither her or Lena were particular to the world of professional sports, but it was the coziest thing Sam had ever worn.

“Like who even likes _them?_ ” Alex lamented, hands flailing wildly about, “And you’re reading like a freaking _dictionary-_ ”

“Anthology,” Sam amended.

“Written in dead languages-”

“I didn’t see you complaining when I was learning to read Kryptonian.”

“And you’ve got those glasses-”

“That you gave me,” Sam supplied growing increasingly more confused with each passing moment.

“And it’s just so damn distracting!”

After a few moments of silence, Sam inquired, “Are you done?”

With a huff, Alex collapsed into the couch opposite Sam, mumbling into the cushion what Sam thought might be a yes.

“Good.”

In bewilderment, Alex glanced up from where her face had been driven into the couch cushion, “Good? That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say for yourself?”

Shrugging her shoulders, Sam thumbed to the next page in her book, “Yes. Oh, and when you’re done your report, don’t forget to add a ten to the jar.”

“The- I’m losing my mind over how infuriatingly distracting your very existence is and all you’re worried about is the damn swear jar?!” Alex demanded in a state of what Sam could only describe as shock.

“Make that fifteen,” Sam hummed, biting the inside of her lips to prevent the impending smile, “And don’t worry, babe, I got it. _Infuriatingly_ distracting.”


	3. querencia [Alex/Sam]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _querencia (n.) a place where one feels safe, a place from which one’s strength of character is drawn_

It is in the stillness of the morning where she finds it. Long before the sun has peaked over the skyline, blanketing the city in its warm eternal glow, all things seem to come to life.

Inside, Alex thinks, it feels an awful lot like a loving embrace. The kind that leaves one craving more – yearning to reach out, to sink back into the love; the warmth. It feels like what she once read home might feels like, some idyllic haven and unlike the erratic nature of life, it feels solid beneath her feet.

Of course, her friends poke “good natured” fun at the thought, adding remarks like ‘ _you’re crazy’_ or ‘ _I’d never do that_ ’ and carry on, unaware of the doubts their thoughtless pessimistic filled utterances have the potential to plant. And when once Alex had not been mindful, those thoughtless remarks had become seeds and those seeds voracious weeds, deadly to the touch.

But then she met Sam.

Sam did not understand, and yet never once did she judge. Instead, smiling in the most tender of ways, she spoke words of encouragement, clearing the noxious weeds without realisation and with the most delicate of care.

“Hey you,” she mumbled, the edges of consciousness creeping into her body.

“Hey,” Alex beamed back, fingers clasped around a piping hot mug of Sam’s favourite morning brew.

“For me?” she asked with half lidded eyes, words barely coherent.

“Always,” assured Alex, leaning over the edge of the bed to press a soft kiss to the crown of Sam’s sleep tussled hair, “Sleep well?”

“Mmm, you?”

“Always.”

And Alex meant it, from the bottom of her heart. Because, in the stillness of the morning, while the world would sleep, Alex had learned to find strength in the silence. She had learned to find beauty in the small things like the way Sam’s nose would twitch while she slept or the way her best thoughts seemed to flow onto paper as Alex sets the intentions for her day over a steaming mug of tea, alone in the darkness of the kitchen.

Sure, to some, waking up before the crack of dawn, hours before Sam and Ruby would stir, was the most preposterous notion to exist. But Alex had recognised that it was in that space where the understanding of who she was – _what she believed and who she sought to become_ – was forged. And it was there, in the stillness, where she had first learned to find peace; the peace within herself.


	4. nepenthe [Amberle/Eretria]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _nepenthe (n.) something that makes you forget grief or suffering_

Sweat drips from her body in rivulets, cascading to the mats below.

“Again.”

Every muscle in her body aches, longing for the rest she is sure they will never find.

“I said again.”

With deadly precision she strikes, each punch searching for flashes of exposed skin. Like the body of a cobra, she coils and releases – _ribs, jaw_ – and with a sickening crunch, her opponent falls. It is not a feeling she is proud of, the way her shoulders draw back, and her chest swells with uninvited satisfaction, but Eretria is instinctually selfish. And as they drag off the limp form – battered and broken over time – she knows that it is either her or them.

“That is enough for today.”

The eyes of her audience fades, and only once alone, does she allow the tremble in her knees to show and the floor to swallow her whole.

As the edges of her vision grow dark – the sensation of pain radiating from every pore of her body – Eretria hears it. Soft, gentle whispers. Assurances of more; of a life beyond shackles and slavery.

_“Soon enough_.”

Embracing the salve of darkness, Eretria releases the images of soft brown tresses haloed by the brilliance of the high sun. She is not sure what it all means – or what might one day come – but Eretria _believes_. In what or of who, she cannot explain, but the promise of a future, whispered only in the spaces inbetween, ignites within her a stubborn will to survive.

Then perhaps, one day, Eretria will be free from this nightmare she lives and the soft, gentle whispers, will emerge from the inner recesses of her mind to dance across the stretches of her skin, leaving gloriously wondrous trails in their wake. 


End file.
